Of Choices and Changes
by A Being Of Violet Fire
Summary: This is a story of Choices and Changes. This is a story of happiness, the pain it takes to get there, and the Choices along the way. A story of rippling Changes, spreading out far before and beyond anyone knew or thought or imagined. This is the Story of Harrison James Potter. It just starts with Thomas Riddle Sr. ((Complete mix/mash-up of HP Characters. X-over with Avengers-Arc))
1. The First Choice

_**A/N: Hello Again!**_

_**I won't say I'm sorry (although I am, a little bit) as I told everyone that I would be going to a school in Australia for 7 months and would be mostly indisposed. I did mean to write a lot more... but unfortunately, it was a full-time school (24 credits) and it took up A LOT more time than even I anticipated. But, as a reward, I have developed a few new plot-werewolves that will hound me, full-moon night or not (Remus Lupin hounding me... yummy!). I AM CONTINUING ALL MY STORIES! I WILL NEVER DISCONTINUE OR ABANDON A STORY! Even if something awful happens (like Death or ::GASP!:: Real Life) I will either return from the grave or fight tooth and nail to be free from the quagmires of normalcy and banality to return to you, my faithful readers, and continue my stories.**_

_**Thank you for waiting patiently for me to return, and I hope that this rewards your efforts.**_

_**A/N About the Story:**_

_**This will be an utter and complete mix/mash-up of the Harry Potter timeline and characters. I've rewritten practically everyone - yes, even the Marauders - and reworked all the families (almost). Harry Potter will also be a part of the main Avengers Story-Arc. He will encounter Steve Rogers before The Freeze, may or may not meet Iron Man (but definitely his father), and will be a part of the Avengers Movie. Also, some things from Thor-Verse and Hulk-Verse will make themselves known/affect Harry... next chapter most of all.**_

_**Yes, I know I'm evil for giving you such a juicy yet un-fulfilling hint... NOW READ!**_

* * *

It's crazy what difference one small, insignificant choice can make.

Take, for instance, the choice that Thomas Gareth Riddle was faced with when his wife forgot to give him his weekly love potion.

There he was, standing in a ramshackle old house, faced with a horrid, grotesque woman, her stomach rounded and full with child.

Despite the horror and disgust that filled him at the knowledge that he had been drugged and used, Thomas couldn't bring himself to look away from the womb that held _his child._

Was it a boy? A little terror with black hair and emerald eyes, all dimples and innocence even while covered in mud and sneaking worms and beetles in jars into the kitchen? Or would it be a girl? A little princess that would have him wrapped around all ten of her little fingers; who played with dolls and convinced him to do her hair and called him _Papa?_

And it was those images – those two perfect children who were _his – _that cut like a knife through his rage and illuminated his choice.

Because, no matter how rich he was or how blue his blood was – he had been brought up with a firm sense of responsibility and a wish for a _family_.

And, no matter the means or the manipulation, that little child, still growing – innocent and beautiful and perfect – was _his child._

And he would do right by them.

* * *

That decision, that small, insignificant decision, changed _everything._

Despite how much Thomas hated Merope, he made sure that she got the best physician that money could buy. Thus, Merope didn't die in childbirth, and the baby – a little boy with dimples and wide green eyes – was never put into an orphanage.

Unfortunately, Merope had filled in the birth certificate while Thomas was enraptured by his tiny son. Thomas had always wanted to name his first child Lucas, and he would never have even _considered _the middle name of _Marvolo_ – but it was too late, his son was named:

Thomas Marvolo Riddle.

But, for some reason that Thomas wouldn't understand until _much _later, he didn't get too angry about the trickery with his son's name. For some reason, it just felt _right_.

As the weeks went by the madness that pervaded the Slytherin bloodline due to inbreeding became more and more apparent in Merope. Until, one day, Thomas came home from work to witness Merope lowering his screaming son into a cauldron; a potions book with a dark recipe to gain magic open beside her.

Thomas didn't even hesitate.

The fight was short, quick, and ended with Thomas burying Merope in the backyard at midnight; his now-calm and safely-resting son strapped to his chest.

Three months later and Thomas was sitting across from his little Tom, whom even now, at barely seven months old, stared with almost eerie attention right back at him. Tom was an almost perfect child; he always slept through the night, he hardly cried, and he learned things so quickly – studying it with almost single-minded purpose until one day – he would just do it.

Just like with Accidental Magic.

Thomas remembered the things that Merope had snarled about Accidental Magic during her rants – about how her _perfect brother _could summon his food and send stinging hexes at her, but that she could do nothing, and would be starved for days in the hopes that it would kick-start some _Slytherin-worthy _magic. Sometimes, Thomas would begin to feel sorry for Merope. But then he would remember what she'd almost done to his perfect son, and any such feelings would vanish like dust in the wind.

But another thing that Thomas remembered Merope talking about was a certain pub called The Leaky Cauldron. And about the magical place that remained hidden behind there. A place called Diagon Alley.

And Thomas also remembered Merope ranting about the bank called Gringotts. A bank with the Slytherin Fortune sitting in a vault – a fortune that Merope couldn't touch _because she didn't have magic._

Magic that little Tom had.

Now, just to clarify things, Thomas wasn't planning on using his son to gain a fortune for himself. No, quite the contrary in fact. After Thomas had married Merope and had a son through her, his family had disowned him. And when Merope had 'died' and Thomas was left as the sole caretaker of Tom (whom he refused to leave with a complete stranger during the day) he lost his job.

And so Thomas was now sitting across from his seven-month old son, whom had just used Accidental Magic to levitate the last of their food to his clearly-starving father.

And Thomas knew that he had to put aside his pride and go to this – Diagon Alley. He had to do right by his son – by his little Tom. And by Go-_Merlin_ – he would.

And that, my dear readers, is when everything changed.

* * *

Thomas walked unsurely through the front doors of Gringotts, his eagerly observing, but still wonderfully quiet son, held tightly in his arms. Despite the evidence of magic that he had seen – both through Merope's potions and that one occasion where her brother had tortured him – he was still overwhelmed and shocked by the evidence that he could see around him. If it weren't for the precious bundle held tightly in his arms, Thomas would have left and never come back.

But Thomas steeled his resolve and approached one of the – _were those Goblins?! – _tellers. Ignoring the sneering look the beast adopted in response to his clearly bedraggled appearance, Thomas cleared his throat and declared, in his rich, cultured voice that made the Goblin raise his eyebrow in surprise, "I wish to see the manager of the Slytherin Accounts."

All noise in the bank silenced.

The Goblin leaned forward, an almost desperately hopeful look on his face as his sharp eyes alighted on the still-staring bundle in Thomas' arms. The father tightened his arms around little Tom in response.

"And what… _business, _would you have with the Moste Esteemed Manager of the Ancient and Royal House of Slytherin?" The Goblin asked, shocking Thomas with the list of titles. His son couldn't be that powerful, could he…?

"Mine and my son's business remains our own, Sir Goblin. As my son is the last Slytherin, I would rather not discuss such… _delicate _matters in public. Would you not agree?" Thomas sent a very pointed glance towards the surrounding bank customers, who had steadily been sneaking closer and were, even now, trying to crane and catch a glimpse of his little Tom.

"Hm. Of course, Mr…?"

"Riddle. Thomas Gareth Riddle. And this is my son, Thomas Marvolo Riddle-Slytherin." Thomas answered both the asked and unasked questions.

"Hrn. That remains to be seen, Mr. Riddle. You do know that we have ways of telling for sure – as well as punishing those who lie and wish to gain power that is not theirs to own."

The threat and promise in the shrewd, clever, sharp eyes of the Goblin was not idle; and Thomas prayed that not all of Merope's words were insane rants and mutterings. Nevertheless, he nodded, not allowing any of his fear or worry to show in his eyes; and merely followed after the Goblin as he was led through an ornate door behind the main desk.

The door thumped shut behind him with a note of finality; and Thomas prayed that it wasn't the sound of their coffin being nailed behind them.

* * *

Well, obviously, it was proven that Thomas Marvolo Riddle _was _the last heir to the Slytherin Line. However, it was the other discoveries that were the most shocking.

When little Tom had given a drop of his blood – without crying – to the Inheritance Potion, and when the Potion was poured onto the Blood Reveal Parchment – more than just Slytherin showed up.

The Lines of Merlin and LeFay also appeared. And, as the Slytherin Lines had never married into those previously-thought dead Lines, the Goblin insisted on doing an Inheritance Test for Thomas as well.

The results showed that Thomas was the last son of two minor Squib Lines that had been kidnapped from their families ten generations ago. As a matter of fact, there was a law that said that, if no one came forward to claim an Ancient Line before the end of the tenth generation, the gold and artifacts automatically went to the Ministry of Magic. They were going to be _very upset _when they found out that the gold was literally snatched from them – and completely legally.

The Slytherin Manager was nearly giddy with glee.

As soon as the truth came to light, the best personal tailor was summoned to outfit both Thomas and little Tom. The best foods and wines and juices were imported from Gringotts banks around the world – and all complimentary (if that was any indication of how thrilled the Goblins were. After all, if the Ministry took all the gold it would be pumped into the economy and spent within a fortnight, and thus gold would be worth less and the accounts would immediately stop gaining interest. The Goblins had been stewing over the loss for years – until Thomas Gareth Merlin-LeFay-Riddle and Tom Marvolo Merlin-LeFay-Slytherin-Riddle showed up).

Thomas went ahead and claimed the Merlin and LeFay Lines, while keeping the Slytherin Line in Stewardship for his son. And, when he passed on, his son would also receive the Merlin and LeFay Lines. Unfortunately, Thomas would be unable to have any more children to pass those lines on to, as Merope had snuck a potion into his food that would prevent him from sleeping with anyone other than her.

As Thomas stared in amused and slightly dazed disbelief in the actions going on around him, a small hand tugging on his shoulder-length hair brought his attention to his green-eyed, remarkable little son.

"Be 'kay, Papa." Little Tom spoke his first words, and Thomas didn't even have enough shock left in him to be surprised.

All he could think was, '_Look out Wizarding World. I have a feeling that a lot of things are about to change."_

And eerie, mischievous green eyes agreed with their Papa.

* * *

That was just the beginning. Thanks to the excellent recommendations of the Goblins, Thomas found a comfortable home for himself, his son, and their three House Elves Peridot, Topaz, and Garnet. They were House Elves of the Royal Pedigree, bred specially to serve those descended from the Ancient and Royal Houses of Slytherin, Gryffindor, Merlin, LeFay, and Morgana. All were named from different jewels/precious gems – after all, as Royalty, who would expect any different? Thomas now had one Royal House Elf for each he was Master of/Steward over – Peridot for Slytherin, Topaz for Merlin, and Garnet for LeFay – whom would be tasked with finding and hiring new Elves in the task of renewing the Family Holdings and Name, in addition to taking care of their new Master and his Heir. They had a lot of work to do.

The house was located in Slytherin Terrace… not a stone's throw away from the Potter Manor. Following the Goblin's advice, Thomas sent a letter to them with his new owl – a Screech named Horus – informing them that he was new to the area with his infant son, and did not mean them any harm; but could they, perhaps, meet for tea sometime?

Thus a friendship was begun between the Muggle previously known as Thomas Riddle, and Charlus and Evelyn Potter. But, more importantly, the newly-born James Potter and Tom became friends – the best of friends, and even closer… they became _brothers._

Oh yes, my dear readers, a great many things were going to change.

* * *

Over the years, as 'Jamie' and Tom grew up, a few new people came into their lives. The Potters, being a Light Family, had close connections to the Prewetts, and soon invited little Lillian Prewett (Lily and Petunia Evans had been blood-adopted after their Muggle parents had died in during the Grindenwald War) over to play with their sons, and often Molly Prewett – being seven years older – would babysit and watch over the three hellions. Of course, Petunia Prewett had been invited as well, but the girl was far too spiteful of the fact that her twin, Lily, had magic, where she did not. (Petunia – of her own choice – would very rarely be seen beyond the walls of Prewett Manor until she would come of age, where she would disappear from the Wizarding World; much to the distress of her loving parents and sisters.)

Often enough, though, the adults catch James and Lily in screaming matches, yelling back and forth about '_cooties' _and how _'gross boys are'_ and _'I hate you snot-face/carrot-top!'_, while Tom would watch with the amused disinterest of the set-upon (which is a hilarious expression for a five year old to have). And the Potters and Prewetts would share secret, amused, knowing smiles as they separated the two friends.

At the same time, the Goblins encouraged Thomas that, as Slytherin, Merlin, and LeFay were all Dark Families – families that had nearly died out – he should start making contact with other Dark Families who could teach his son how to control his predominantly Dark Magic.

Thus, Thomas came to meet the Malfoys and Snapes.

Annie Fortescue (sister of Alice Fortescue, whom was in a Triad with Bellatrix Lestrange and Franklin Longbottom), was referred to as "The Malfoy Wife" by those stuffed shirts who were of the opinion that she had married far above her station, and thus must have done something scandalous to ensnare the powerful Abraxas Malfoy to marry her. But Annie was, in reality, a petite, lovely witch who loved her son Lucius and her husband as much as they loved her in return.

The Snapes, however, were a far more interesting story. Eileen Prince's father had died young – at the early (for a wizard) age of fifty. Unfortunately, the Prince Head could only be passed to a male heir, and Eileen was his only child. Thankfully, he had thought ahead, and had named the stable-hand Alexander Snape as Steward of House Prince. Alexander was a wizard of lesser nobility, but also a wizard of kindness, honor, bravery, and cleverness. Alexander was tasked with keeping Eileen well provided for, and to keep the Prince Estate and Name in pristine condition until the next male heir came of age. Alexander did all of that and more… just a bit more permanently than the late Prince might have guessed. Him and Eileen eventually fell in love and married, and had recently given birth to their first son – Heir of the Great and Noble House of Prince – Severus Princeton Snape.

Both Severus and Lucius were the same age as Tom, and they hit it right off. Thomas had been curious why there were so many children the same age as his son, and was told that a great war had just ended – a war in which an evil wizard named Grindenwald had tried to enslave the Wizarding World. Thankfully, he had recently been vanquished by another powerful wizard – Albus Dumbledore – and as such there was an incredible baby boom in the population; as those who were afraid they might not live through the war or didn't want to bring a child into such dangerous times were free to procreate without fear.

Unfortunately, James contracted a rare type of Magical Core Sensitivity that would recognize any magic that he was unfamiliar with as a foreign attack, and his magic would lash out in response to the threat. The Healer had told them that it wouldn't wear off until he turned eleven, when his magical core would receive an extra boost of magic to prepare him for his magical education, and would purge the damage to his core. Since Tom was practically a brother to James, there was nothing to fear. However, Lucius and Severus, whom both were Dark, and hadn't yet met James, could not meet him until Hogwarts started; which greatly hurt Tom, as he now had to divide his time between his soul-brother James and friend Lily, and his soul-brothers Lucius and Severus.

But somehow, they managed, and as Thomas sat back and took a sip from his Firewhiskey (he'd immediately taken a shine to the magical liquor after Abraxas had introduced him to it) and Peridot cleaned up after five year old Lucius, Severus, and Tom's latest sleepover _bombarda_, he smiled; and decided that, if given a choice whether or not to marry Merope, he'd do the whole thing again.

Because there were different kinds of Changes. Changes that threw everything for a loop. Changes that only affected small things. There were Changes that people dreaded, and those that people anticipated with bated breath. There were Changes that, in reality, changed nothing. And there were Changes that changed _everything. _

And, once in a while, there were Changes that did all of that and more. And, despite (or because of), all that, there was a happy ending at the end.

And Thomas Gareth Merlin-LeFay-Riddle knew that he was very, very happy.

* * *

But what Thomas _didn't _know was that this was the end… it was the _beginning_.

For he had forgotten the most important kind of Changes… the ones that take _time. _The ones that spread outward and upward – like a mix of a butterfly's wing-beat and the ripple effect – the repercussions getting larger and more apparent as the small things became _great_.

And he forgot that, like most things in life, Changes will get worse before they get better.

And Thomas Riddle was merely the smallest and largest piece in the Changes that would affect one small, not-even-born boy.

For this was _his _story. The story, of Harrison James Potter.

The Boy-Who-_Changed._


	2. The First Change

"Oh, this will be _perfect_." Five-year old Thor grinned as he looked up at the Tesseract, the jewel of his father's treasure room.

"I fail to see how this could be, in any way, a good idea, Thor…" Little Loki – so eloquent, even so young – tried to caution his brother, knowing that their father would be displeased if they broke _that._

Unfortunately, Thor lacked the ability to think ahead, and quickly grabbed the glowing blue cube before running off, yelling, "You just wanna Give it yourself! Well, ya gotta catch me first!"

"Thor!" Loki yelled, chasing after his brother, already knowing that this would end up badly.

You see, for the first and last time ever, there was a _Festival of Magic._ Asgard itself was rather new – just finishing it's first century, in fact – and the roots of Yggdrasil had finally matured enough to create the Nine Worlds.

The Worlds were new, just forming into existence, and Gullveig (the goddess of sorcery and prophecy, as well as one of young Loki's instructors), had gathered all of the magic – all the magic that every single person in the future would ever have. From the beginning of each world until the end, Gullveig had summoned and gathered and stored every last bit of it – into a massive glass sphere in the center of the city.

And the people of Asgard – in thanks to Gaia for the blessing of having magic and near-immortality – were given the opportunity to Give to the Magic. Whether a trinket, something that held a precious memory, or a golden chalice – everything would bless both themselves and the Magic. A gold coin might bless the future Receiver of the Magic with prosperity. A favorite childhood book might transfer into creativity, or child-like wonder. Even a favorite fruit, might become wealth and bounty in the life of a future Magic wielder – on _any _of the Worlds.

Today was the last day of the month-long Festival, and Thor was bound and determined to Give the _best _Gift to the Magic. A Gift that would be remembered for millennia to come.

Well, Thor would get his wish. Just not in the way he expected.

"Thor! Don't be. So. STUPID!" Loki finally managed to tackle his brother, just as he almost reached the edge of the Giving Ledge, where people had thrown thousands of Gifts over the past month.

Unfortunately, when Loki tackled his brother, the noise drew the attention of Odin, who was looking out from his balcony.

So he saw, as though in slow motion, as the Tesseract fell from Thor's fingers onto the Ledge below – a ledge made from the most unbreakable metals in Asgard, and fortified with Magic – and _crack_.

And Odin watched in horror as a Shard – a small, cerulean-glowing Shard – separated from the Tesseract, and fell over the Ledge, and down to the swirling Sphere of Magic.

"NO!" Odin screamed, but it was too late. The Shard slid through the glass Sphere like it was made of water, and fell into the Magic.

And the Sphere _exploded_.

The Sphere had only been made to contain Magic, and it had already been filled to overflowing by both the Magic and the Gifts. But the Tesseract, well… that was another Power altogether. A power that Gullveig could not control.

"Foolish children!" Gullveig appeared just in the nick of time, throwing herself over Thor and Loki and shielding them with her body as the Magic exploded outwards and upwards and inwards and forwards. Shooting with seemingly no order in all directions. Gullveig looked up with difficulty, and let go of Thor briefly to stretch out her hand. "HEIMDALL!" Her voice echoed throughout the city, "PREPARE YOUR SWORD!"

And suddenly all the Magic was rushing towards the southern point of Asgard, towards Heimdall, who had just been appointed Guard over the Gateway – a Gateway that was to be created by the Magic that was being sent to the Worlds.

Loki raised his head with difficulty, and saw in the distance as Heimdall faced the torrential wave of Magic fearlessly, raising his sword – a massive thing of gold and the finest, strongest, most mystical metals and forged in the heart of Odin's Forge – and pointing it straight into the Heart of the Magic.

Loki was sure that Heimdall would perish, but it seemed like all the Magic was _sucked _into the blade, making it glow brighter and hotter than a thousand thousand suns. And then Heimdall – shaking and sweating under the staggering weight of the millions of souls he held in his hands – turned the sword and pointed it into the darkness of space – to the emptiness that, Loki imagined, the Worlds were still forming in, holding their breath, waiting for their Magic.

Loki squinted, and fancied that, for some reason, the Shard of the Tesseract was stuck to the point of the blade, rather than having been sucked in with the rest of the Magic.

But Loki had no more time to ponder that, for just then…

_BOOM!_

In a massive explosion of light that was both all the colors and none at all – just _brightness_ – the Magic shot out into the stars. After Loki blinked the fairies from his eyes, he stared in wonder.

For there was now a Bridge. A massive, gorgeous, sparkling Bridge that gleamed with all the colors of every rainbow that had ever or would ever exist. And standing as a silent, intimidating sentinel, was Heimdall, now clad in golden armor, his sword held before him.

Loki could have stared forever at the beauty and wonder before him.

Sadly, it was not to be.

"Gullveig! What has that _foolish _boy done now?!" Odin's very, _very _displeased voice rang out, startling Loki and Thor from the amazed stupor that had been in.

"All-Father." Gullveig quickly stood and looked out towards the emptiness of space – that was no longer quite so empty. "I do not know as of yet. The Shard attached itself to a Magical Soul going to Midgard – but I know not where… or when."

"_When_, Lady Gullveig?" Odin growled, demanding an explanation.

"Indeed. I cannot… control the Shard. It is nothing like my Magic. It could not even be absorbed by the Sword. As such… it went along a different path inbetween the Worlds. Time travels differently along the Pathways… and without me to guide it, there's no telling when in the future of Midgard the Shard will end up. But one thing's for certain – the Tesseract can no longer stay here. As long as it's fractured, and a Shard of it's tethered to Midgard – whether now or in the future – this is not it's home. The Tesseract will have to reside on Midgard until it can be reunited with it's missing piece." Gullveig winced as she saw the fury on Odin's face, as he realized that he was going to have to give up the prize of his trophy room.

"Stupid, _foolish boy!_" Odin whirled towards the two boys, and Loki gave Thor an 'I-told-you-so' look while Thor hung his head in shame. Both knew whose fault it was… which is why what happened next took both completely by surprise.

"Loki, you horrid, rotten trickster!" Odin growled, stalking forwards to grab his youngest son by the nape of the neck and shake him like a dog. "Do you realize what you have _done?!" _

"But Father, I didn't –" "He didn't-" Both Loki and Thor spoke up, but Odin didn't let them finish.

"Oh no you don't boy! I'm well aware of that 'silver tongue' you're developing, and if you think that you'll be able to wheedle your way with me, well I'll prove you wrong! I saw myself that it was Thor who was carrying and dropped it – but I wouldn't be surprised at all if it were _you_, boy, who convinced and/or manipulated your brother into doing something that I'd _clearly _told him not to do! My son Thor would never do such a thing willfully – but _you, _on the other hand, are a completely different story! You will be punished severely for this, boy, and you will learn right off that you cannot pull such trickery with me!"

Ignoring both Thor and Gullveig's protestations, Odin dragged the sobbing and terrified Loki inside, intent on teaching him a lesson that he wouldn't soon forget.

And as Loki lay in his room that night, sore and terrified and forbidden from any company for the next month, the first seeds of anger and hatred and betrayal and _pain_ took hold.

And that's when the _Whispers _started.

* * *

Gullveig was indeed correct, when she said that the Shard got lost among the Pathways; jumping in and out and around the Cosmic Roads. The Shard, tethered to the Magical Core that would have begun the Ancient and Royal House of Avalon on Midgard, didn't make it's 'Estimated Time of Arrival'.

And as such, the World moved on. Other Ancient and Royal Houses were formed and created from their Magical Cores, unaware of their missing counterpart.

Wizards were born and died, a civilization was formed and flourished, and a thousand generations came and went before the Shard finally found it's way home.

And it found the last child of the Avalon Line – now called Evans – and merged with her as she lay in the womb with her older twin sister.

And then she was born, the Shard that lay within her causing her emerald green eyes to glow and her smiles to shine with _life _and _vitality _and _enchantment_. Her Magic new and untainted by thousands of years – _pure._

But the Shard would remain dormant within her – until she would pass it on to her son.

But, well, we'll get to that later.

* * *

"I'm entrusting you to keep this safe, whilst it is on Midgard." Odin handed the Tesseract over to his most trusted guard. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes, All-Father. I shall guard it with my life." Helga Hufflepuff, strongest of the Asgardian Warriors and downright deadly with her battleaxe, accepted the Cube reverently before tucking it into a hidden pocket of her robes. "No harm shall befall it while it is in my care."

"Good."

* * *

Unfortunately, if Odin had thought to consult Gullveig beforehand, what happened next might not have come to pass.

Helga Hufflepuff came to Midgard and stood as a silent Sentinel, never allowing herself to become concerned or involved in the affairs of men for hundreds and hundreds of years – holing herself up in a remote castle in Norway where she stood in constant watch over the Tesseract.

Until, one day, a Greek Witch by the name of Rowena Ravenclaw – who was, at the time, called Goddess Artemis by the Muggles – stumbled upon the castle and right into Helga's heart. The two became fast friends, and eventually Rowena convinced Helga to leave the castle and explore Earth.

After setting up a series of traps and riddles to guard the Tesseract, Helga left with Rowena, fully intending to return someday to make sure her duty was kept.

Sadly, it was not to be.

Along their travels, Rowena and Helga met with and formed strong bonds with Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin. Together they build Hogwarts School and Witchcraft and Wizardry, and brought in young witches and wizards from around the world to learn from the best.

Shortly after the third successful year of Hogwarts, Helga heard Heimdall summoning her back to assist in a war – a war, apparently, in Náir; Hel was trying to gain more souls and jurisdiction than she was allowed, and was causing untold havoc. Every Asgardian Warrior was required to fight.

Helga explained everything to her friends and gave them a fond farewell, leaving with promises to return with great stories about her conquests in battle.

She never returned.

Although she had fought valiantly, and taken down hundreds of foes, she was struck down a mere forty seconds before the battle ended. Granted, it had taken over two hundred of the undead swarming her to overwhelm her, but it made no difference. Helga Hufflepuff, reknown Asgardian Warrior and beloved Head of Hogwarts, died, cold and alone, in the amongst the bones and rot of Náir, the Underworld.

Over the thousand or so years, Odin had – well, not really _forgotten, _per se – but just not _thought _about Helga, guarding the Tesseract on Midgard. And so, when he called for all Asgardian Warriors, he had not thought that Helga would be a part of those Warriors. And so he had no idea that she was even there on Náir, much less that she had been struck down.

And so Odin returned to Asgard, victorious, and with no knowledge and his precious Tesseract was now lost to him.

And the friends of Helga Hufflepuff of Earth mourned the loss of their sister in all but blood. And as time wore on, and the friendly rivalry between the Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff became less and less friendly as memory was lost and images faded, and who Helga Hufflepuff really was was lost to the sands and fickle memories of time; the Tesseract lay, hidden away, in Hufflepuff Castle in Norway.

That was, until, the Red Devil came knocking.

And the rippling Changes continued to grow larger.

And larger.

And _larger._

* * *

**_A/N: I'm loving this SOOO much! Thank you WyrdSmith, for allowing me to use your idea for a viking Helga Hufflepuff... although the rest of Helga's story is *mine*! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Let me know what you think!_**


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